


Forbidden Fruit

by Eleos



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Apple - Freeform, Community: Hermione's Haven, Dragons, F/M, Hermione's Haven Harvest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 14:29:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16641975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eleos/pseuds/Eleos
Summary: For as long as apples have been a symbol of life, they’ve been a symbol of sin. Hermione pays the Welsh Dragon Reserve a visit and finds a whole lot more.





	Forbidden Fruit

For as long as apples have been a symbol of life, they’ve been a symbol of sin. Eve taking a juicy bite of an apple, disobeying God to gain knowledge of good and evil. Eris using an apple from the Tree of Life to spark a fight between three beautiful goddesses. Idunn guarding the golden apples of immortality, only to be kidnapped by giants.

Even now, Hermione thought, there was something decadent about taking that first bite into that tart piece of fruit, her teeth piercing its red skin and sinking deep into its flesh. Of course, all of these thoughts could be the result of reading far too much mythology. An attempt to branch out from the treatises on merpeople, werewolf rights legislation, and new dragon breeding requirements that consumed her life lately. An effort to read something a little closer to fiction for a change, as Ginny had so helpfully suggested.

Hermione leaned back against a tree with her satchel slung over her shoulder, pausing as her stomach settled from her Portkey trip. She’d need to get to work soon, but she could take a moment for herself first. The November sky was bright and cold, and the sun cast a warm glow on the expansive plains dotted with apple trees and fallen leaves. She inhaled deeply, relishing the crispness of the air, tinged with a hint of smoke. _The dragons_ , she thought, and though she could not see them from here, the telltale plumes of smoke were hazy on the horizon.

Normally, Hermione was a books and paperwork kind of girl and wouldn’t have been out of the office on a Thursday morning, much less in Wales. But Stebbins had gotten injured on his diplomatic visit to Bulgaria (vampires and diplomacy didn’t always mix well), and her boss at the Department for the Care and Control of Magical Creatures had asked for volunteers to conduct the annual inspection of the Welsh Dragon Reserve in his place. Even though she worked in the Beings Division, she had jumped at the opportunity to do some field work. Merlin knows she could use the distraction….and the distance from the Burrow.

Hermione allowed herself a brief moment of self pity, recalling the flurry of preparations Molly was leading at the Burrow for Ron and Susan’s wedding. There was no love lost between her and Ron these days, but seeing him finding happiness so far from her still stung, even four years later. She bit into her apple, ripping the flesh away with her teeth.

“Now, what did that apple ever do to you?”

Hermione whipped around, brandishing her wand. “Who—Charlie?”

A grinning Charlie Weasley raised his hands in surrender. He was tanner than Hermione remembered, his freckles standing out starkly across his nose. “I come in peace,” he said, chuckling.

“Sorry,” Hermione said, lowering her wand. “I was just—"

“Massacring a piece of fruit.”

“Well,” she said. “I uh, take snacking very seriously.” She blushed, noticing his broad shoulders and dazzling smile. “What are you doing here?” she blurted. “I mean—sorry, it’s good to see you.”

He walked over to her, blue eyes dancing. “What am I doing here?” he asked, and Hermione had a sudden flashback to her first impression of Charlie Weasley, examining a salamander at the Quidditch World Cup, eyes alight as he watched it flit through his fingers. As if every movement the creature made delighted him, as if he couldn’t look away, even if it burned him.

Charlie leaned his arm against the tree trunk, glancing down at her. “Hermione, I am a dragon tamer. So it should be no surprise what I’m doing here. But you,” he said, “do not look at all like Stebbins.”

“Ah, yes,” she said. “He had a bad run in with a vampire horde. Hazard of the job. I volunteered to be his replacement.”

“Ooh, tough luck,” said Charlie. “Though, I have to say, you’re much prettier than he is.”

Hermione tried to ignore the fluttering in her stomach.

“I’ll be sure to let him know.” She grinned. “My boss told me I was to meet a dragon tamer who’d take me around the reserve, but she failed to mention it was someone I knew. I thought you were still in Romania.”

“Disappointed?”

Hermione’s eyes burned, her gaze falling to his lips. “Hardly.”

His eyes flicked to hers, and he cocked his head. She couldn’t help but feel like that salamander all those years ago.

“Well, then, it’s only right I should give you the grand tour while we catch up.” Charlie eyed the apple in her palm. “Though it seems you’ve already made yourself at home. Stealing.” He clucked his tongue, but he was smiling.

Hermione’s eyes widened at the apple, which she’d plucked off the tree without thinking. “Oh, am I allowed to eat this? I didn’t even think—”

“It’s all right,” said Charlie. “I mean, these trees are technically part of the protected area of this nature reserve—it’s not just the dragons that are safeguarded here. We try to preserve their habitat for them.”

“Oh. I’m sorry—”

“I won’t tell,” he said. “And anyway, as much as you kept Ron and Harry out of trouble in school, I always knew you had a bit of a rebellious streak, Hermione Granger.”

Hermione held back a groan. How had she gone from perfectly composed to out of her mind in just a few minutes? “Oh yeah?” she said.

“Definitely.”

Hermione took a slow bite of her apple, her eyes never leaving Charlie’s. “I suppose you could say I have a taste for Forbidden Fruit.”

* * *

Four hours, an exhilarating encounter with a Welsh Green, and layers of warding spells later, Hermione and Charlie sat laughing in a crowded pub a few miles south of the dragon reserve.

“How did I never know you liked Arithmancy?”

“Because you assumed I was a dumb jock?” Charlie joked. “I was a Prefect, you know. Got seven N.E.W.T.s.”

“I wish I’d talked to you more when you visited the Burrow for holidays,” Hermione said, twisting her gin and tonic in her hands.

“Well, you were always a little busy with my younger brother,” Charlie said. “There’s plenty of time to remedy that now.” He gestured to the bartender for another firewhiskey, watching in silence as the man poured the amber liquid into a glass.

“Charlie, why do you work with dragons?” Hermione asked.

“Why do I work with dragons?”

“Yes. It’s a dangerous job, and if you liked magical creatures there are so many other things you could do. So why dragons?”

He took a sip of his drink, considering. “Because they’re wild. Because they embody all the emotions, the desires, the passion that humans do, but they’re unashamed. When a dragon wants to fly, she flies. When she wants to hunt, she hunts. When she wants to fuck, she fucks. And when she’s angry, she breathes a stream of fire so intense it could turn a grown man to a pile of ashes in less than a minute.”

He glanced at her to gauge her reaction. “Some people are afraid of that kind of intensity.”

“But you’re not,” Hermione noted.

“No, I’m not. It—” he struggled for words. “It makes me feel alive.”

Hermione licked her lips, tasting the sting of gin and citrus. “All throughout Hogwarts,” she said, “I got so used to following Harry head first into danger. Of course, I was trying to protect him, but I enjoyed it too. I enjoyed brewing illegal potions in an abandoned loo. I liked time travelling to save an escaped convict. I loved sneaking into the Ministry of Magic to get Umbridge’s locket. Hell, I even enjoyed Polyjuicing into Bellatrix Lestrange and breaking into her Gringotts vault. I was scared to death, of course, but it was… exhilarating.”

Charlie raised his glass to her. “I’m a little jealous of your escape on the back of that dragon.”

“It was the stupidest thing I’ve done in my entire life,” Hermione said. “And I loved it.” She set her glass down and looked Charlie in the eyes. “When the war was over, I thought I’d be relieved. In many ways, I was. I was relieved the fighting had ended, relieved people stopped dying, relieved that I didn’t have to hide anymore, that we could start to rebuild.”

“But you weren’t ready for a normal life,” said Charlie.

“I thought crusading for the rights of werewolves and merpeople and house elves would be exciting enough, and I find great fulfillment in my work. There is so much stigma around magical beings and magical creatures: people fear what they don’t understand.”

Charlie nodded. “Same with dragons. They’re dangerous creatures, but we can coexist, if you treat them right, respect the danger they pose.”

“But it’s easier to be afraid,” said Hermione. “And it’s that ignorance I want to fight against. But I can get so bogged down in paperwork—and I love to read, I love studying. You know me, swotty Hermione. I am a paperwork kind of person.” She sighed. “But it feels like I’m speaking into a void sometimes. And paperwork and proposals and presentations mean nothing if nothing changes. They mean nothing if you don’t take action.” She looked into his eyes. “I need action, Charlie.”

“Is that why you volunteered to come out here?” he asked. “To get out in the field, interact with the creatures you’re working to protect?”

Hermione nodded. “And I think—” she paused. “This is going to sound silly, but I think I wanted to be afraid of them too. The dragons, that is. I think I wanted to see all that raw power up close and begin to understand it.”

“Get close enough to the edge to feel the danger of falling off.”

“Yes.” Hermione felt a thrumming in her chest.

“You know once you get that close, it’s hard to back off,” he said, leaning in and resting his hand on her leg. He was breathing heavily now. “You start to live for that edge. To crave it.”

She placed her hand on his. “I know.”

“You, Hermione Granger, are a secret adrenaline junkie. And I like it.”

Before she could respond, Charlie leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers. She kissed back, reaching one hand into his hair, the other clawing at his back. He slipped his tongue into her mouth and she pushed herself forward, trying to close the remaining space between them. Her whole body felt on fire.

After a moment, she broke away, suddenly aware of the other people sitting at the bar. “We shouldn’t do this here,” said Hermione.

“But you agree we should definitely do it?”

She nodded. “Didn’t I just tell you I wanted action?”

Charlie grinned, ruffling his auburn hair. “You are trouble, Hermione.” He stuck a hand into the pocket of his cargo pants. “And I almost forgot—I have something for you.”

“For me? You mean other than a promise we can do more of that?”

“Yes, though I can promise that too.” He smirked, eyes alight with mischief, and held up a bright red apple, nearly identical to the one she’d eaten earlier that day.

“You stole another?” she asked.

“I believe you stole the first,” he countered. “I could buy one at the shop, of course, but they always taste better with a little risk. Care to share with me this time?” She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his lips as he drew the apple to his mouth, licking the surface slowly before biting into it.

Hermione groaned, reaching for the piece of fruit. Without hesitation, she bit into the other end.


End file.
